


Hold On, Baby, You're Losing It

by summerstorm



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Fairy Tales, Kink Meme, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-05
Updated: 2009-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-04 13:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/pseuds/summerstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Maybe Mrs. Fabray was on a do-good high after giving up one of her kidneys for her cousin, or maybe it was just the morphine, but she'd brought Mr. Fabray—she kept calling him that, like it meant something—along with her to the pedes aisle to distract herself, and Quinn was being rocked to sleep by a nurse, unclaimed.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold On, Baby, You're Losing It

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a [](http://community.livejournal.com/glee_kink/profile)[**glee_kink**](http://community.livejournal.com/glee_kink/) prompt, sort of.

Quinn has always believed in God. It was the first thing she challenged herself to do as a kid—if she was able to accept an illusory being into her heart, surely she could deal with the million unanswered question she's always had about herself. Like: did the Fabrays take her in because she looked so much like them, or does she look so much like them because they took her in?

She has no one to ask, so she's a bit fuzzy on the details; she just knows the Fabrays adopted her when she was still in the hospital. Maybe Mrs. Fabray was on a do-good high after giving up one of her kidneys for her cousin, or maybe it was just the morphine, but she'd brought Mr. Fabray—she kept calling him that, like it meant something—along with her to the pedes aisle to distract herself, and Quinn was being rocked to sleep by a nurse, unclaimed.

"She's lovely," Mrs. Fabray said. "Real shame about the—"

The nurse shushed her, and Mr. Fabray laughed. "Doesn't have to be," he said, and took Quinn in his arms, and shared a look with his wife.

The nurse jumped on the chance and blurted out, "Would you like me to bring out the paperwork?"

Mr. Fabray looked at the baby with a touch of idealism that would inevitably fade with age, and he said to his wife, "What do you think? Our little girl could use some company."

The nurse looked at Mrs. Fabray expectantly, but Mrs. Fabray didn't seem to feel pressured, or unsure. She just smiled and nodded, once, twice, then said, "Yes," like her gesture could have failed to convey it.

The nurse dashed out of the room, leaving Quinn with her future family.

"We may have to wait to tell our—_other_ little girl," Mr. Fabray said, wearing a smile that wrinkled the corners of his eyes, "at least until she's old enough to handle a secret."

She remembers that moment with startling clarity—it's one of the many things that are weird about her.

*

Her parents have always done their best to treat her as they would someone _normal_, but Quinn knows it hasn't always been easy for them—they've never told her in as many words, and she likes to think she was self-aware enough not to give too much unusual trouble even as a child, but it's been impossible to keep up the pretense since her sister threw it on her face when Quinn was fourteen.

It was somewhat deserved, sure—Quinn had stolen her sister's supposedly favorite sweater to wear to her first date with Finn, and when her sister found out, instead of giving it back and apologizing, or wrestling her sister to the ground, Quinn stood proud, still feeling the emotional high from having been kissed for the first time, and said, "At least I have a boyfriend," which was especially cruel considering her sister had just broken up with her own.

As payback, her sister didn't steal something from Quinn like they'd always done. She sneered and said, "You know that story Dad always tells you about that game and how no matter how you stumbled into this family, you're still his little girl?" Quinn nodded, blinking confusedly. "It's a _lie_. All through that game he didn't want anything exciting to happen so you wouldn't go all little-monster-like and someone saw your nasty little _appendages_."

Quinn ran out to the garden with the stupid sweater and set it on fire.

It wasn't her most human moment.

*

Her parents think it was an accident, but Finn didn't find out because she instinctively reached for a glass water bottle before it shattered against the floor of his kitchen. She told him. She needed to let those words out, and he was her safest bet.

"You have—" Finn began, frowning unattractively. Sweetly. "Can I see them?"

"Sure, but you can't touch them," she said. He nodded like he had when she told him he couldn't touch her boobs, so she rolled her eyes and dragged her shirt up.

Finn gasped. "_Cool_," he said, and she pushed her shirt down over them again. He looked at her like he was waiting for a cue, and she sighed.

"I will not punch you in the stomach if you kiss me now," she said monotonously, and he leaned in.

"Awesome," he said against her lips.

When she sleeps with Puck, she doesn't take off her clothes, and Puck's too drunk to pay attention to anything that's not directly related to dragging his hand up between her legs. Even so, when she wakes up in her bed the next morning, the first thing she tries to remember is whether he saw anything he shouldn't have—other than the obvious—but she has no recollection of him calling her a freak and either running off to tell everyone or making any disturbing, sexually charged remarks about the recreational uses of her so-called appendages, so she figures she's okay.

That's why Finn is the one she wants with her at doctor's appointments, the one whose house she wants to stay in when her parents kick her out for messing up _one time_, and the one she trusts not to have a meltdown if her secret is a dominant gene.

Always her safest bet.

*

The baby comes out okay. If Quinn hadn't been raised by the Fabrays, she wouldn't even think it, but the first thing is that comes out of her mouth when the nurse hands that little bundle of joy and pain and _human_ to her is, "Oh my God, it's a _miracle_."

The nurses just look on her fondly, like they're used to parents equating human reproduction to visions of the Virgin Mary, but Finn is in the room, and she feels so much less alone with someone there who knows what she's really talking about.

"You have to admit it would have been cool, though," Finn says softly.

"I really lucked out, Finn," she says, cuddling the baby against her chest, "no one would have taken her."

"I would have," he says honestly, and Quinn smiles and shakes her head in fond disbelief, stretches her neck up to let him place a sweaty kiss on her forehead.

She doesn't remember the last time he kissed her on the mouth, but at least she's sure this is normal, just like her baby is. It's not that she's ashamed of herself, it's just—she doesn't want to end up as case study number fifty-six at some science laboratory in Switzerland, and it's hard to live with this fear that someone will find out, and at the same time really hoping someone will and it won't matter to them.

There's good reason it's a secret, but it's a hard one to keep.

*

Finn breaks up with her a week after she's released from the hospital. She's still staying at his house, just because it was closer to the hospital and she felt too exhausted to deal with her parents in person. They're lying on his bed listening to one of the mix CDs he made for the baby. This is the last one—she thinks this is his way of getting closure.

A ridiculous amount of it.

He says earnestly, "It's not me, it's you."

She turns towards him and scowls. "Are you kidding me?"

Finn looks taken aback, and it takes him a while to regain composure. "It's what you want, isn't it? We don't even make out anymore. I know the pregnancy fucked up your hormones and stuff, but it feels kind of wrong to keep a girlfriend who doesn't even want to kiss you. No offense."

It's hard to be mad at him—he's the one who should be offended. She really doesn't want _him_, she just maybe thought it would be easier to get through high school if she had a boyfriend she wasn't attracted to. She knows it's unfair to him, but life has been really unfair to her.

She's tired, though. Her reputation is ruined already—she had a baby in high school, she's probably not going back to the Cheerios in the fall, and she's sure her parents would love it if she just swore off boys for a year.

"Fine," she breathes out. She's way too tired to argue. "See if I care."

She doesn't really have a lot of experiences to compare this to, but it's probably pretty uncommon to have a whole break-up conversation with your shoulder bumping your (former) boyfriend's, and your arms linked tight.

Uncommon, but not necessarily bad.

*

She does go back to Glee in the fall, but there wasn't any question that she would. She even gets a solo pretty early on, and she knows it's because they gave her this really poignant song about her pregnancy for regionals last year and they don't want her to think it was solely because of her baby bump. It's the kind of pity she's willing to pretend she's not aware of.

This one is for sectionals, and Quinn's costume is in a different room, so she doesn't rush to change back into her street clothes afterwards, lingers in front of the mirror, releases them. They're a bright shade of purple, flexible, and wrap around the straps of her bra when she lets them out, tips creamy over her thighs, her belly.

Her skin always feels velvety when they retreat, the same way her foundation dissolves into her face a few seconds after applied, except this makes her shiver and feel dazed, otherworldly, unaware of her surroundings.

That's the moment Rachel Berry chooses to walk in.

*

"Oh my _God_, are those _tentacles_?"

Quinn's eyes widen like saucers in the mirror before she turns, still in her underwear. This is very possibly the most ridiculous position she could have been caught in, and she wonders if the universe is repaying her for using Finn. She did—does—care about him as friend, okay? It wasn't _just_ a cover.

"Don't run," Quinn says, walking towards Rachel. Rachel takes a step back and leans back against the door. It's kind of a small room, so it doesn't even take a minute for Quinn to be face to—well, neck—with Rachel. "Please don't tell anyone," she says. "They're not dangerous, I swear." She wriggles one of them in front of Rachel and then stretches one of her arms, rubs the side of the tentacle over her elbow, and then the soft skin beneath. "See?"

Rachel looks pretty much terrified. She's not blinking—she's not even _talking_, and it's freaking Quinn out.

She hasn't touched anyone but herself with this since she turned thirteen and realized how _sensitive_ they were. Rachel looks even more horrified when they brush her skin—not repulsed, but like she's scared of herself.

"Oh my God," Rachel breathes out, and Quinn feels something in her chest unravel. She's touching somebody's arms with her tentacles, and then Rachel's reaching out to wrap her fingers around them. "They're—oh my God."

"You can't tell anyone," Quinn tries again, and this time Rachel shakes her head and, when Quinn tries to slide the tentacles out of Rachel's hold, Rachel lets out a ridiculously long _moan_.

"That feels—wow," she gasps, jaw going slack, and it maybe takes Quinn a few seconds to realize that Rachel's turned on, and—okay, maybe so is she. Her tentacles are moving swiftly under Rachel's shirt, and Rachel's _letting them_, even welcoming them, and when they sweep over the undersides of Rachel's breasts Rachel's knees just give out and it's pretty much the most beautiful thing Quinn has ever seen.

"Okay, let's just, let's," let's find something to lie on, but before they get to the ottomans they knock down a rack of coats and Rachel ends up on her back, shirt dragged up over her breasts and skirt riding up, and she stares at Quinn with something like elation in her eyes and Quinn can't even _stand_, only feels capable of dropping to the floor, knees at each side of Rachel's right shin, hands at each side of her waist, and staring back.

Rachel's hips jerk, and she nods pleadingly, over and over until Quinn drags one of the tentacles over her sides and under her skirt, sneaking into Rachel's panties without any difficulty, and then she's _inside_ Rachel, gliding in and out with ease, and Rachel's panting and letting out these cute little whimpers and not putting up any sort of resistance at all, and before Quinn has time to think and hold back, she's rubbing down on Rachel's thigh, desperately trying to get some friction.

At least until she realizes she can easily touch herself, which is a doubly good idea because Rachel's eyes follow the movement of Quinn's human hand into her underwear and then the way Quinn bites her lower lip when she touches herself and Rachel's entire body starts shaking, then goes still as she comes, the spasms running up Quinn's tentacles and into her body until she fucking blacks out and her body stops feeling like it's about to collapse.

When she comes back to her senses, her tentacles are hanging limply over her bra, and she's biting into the sleeve of Rachel's shirt. She's glad Rachel's looking up, because she feels absolutely pathetic.

"That was—" Rachel says, looking like she has no adjectives to describe the insanity she just got involved in.

"I'm so sorry," Quinn says, sitting up, "I'm so—I'm not used to—well, to using them. I didn't know they'd have that sort of effect on another person."

"I was going to say amazing," Rachel says, "in a good way. Wait, you haven't—that is such a _waste_," and for some illogical reason she shifts and kisses Quinn, quick but firm, like she's making a stand. Then she solemnly declares, "I'm willing to be your guinea pig."

Quinn laughs, loud and relieved and _surprised_. "You are so," she begins, rummaging in her brain for the right word, "so _shameless_."

"You just fucked me with your tentacles," Rachel says matter-of-factly, "you don't get to call me shameless."

She does have a point. "So you're not going to ask about—"

"I get the feeling you wouldn't be able to answer," Rachel explains.

*

It's still a secret from then on, but it's good to share it with someone who _appreciates_ it, who doesn't think of it as a curse.

And really, Quinn should have known: there's nothing weird enough about her that Rachel Berry couldn't manage to outclass by a mile without even meaning to.

But Quinn can accept that, all in all—maybe she's supposed to appreciate her weirdness, too. Maybe the world dealt her a good hand, and she needed somebody else to teach her how to play it.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who follows me on Twitter, this is what I was referring to as 'Tentacles: A Porny Fairytale' earlier today. Title from _Tied Together with a Smile_ by Taylor Swift.


End file.
